Nov 112011
 

J and I work in semi-related industries at companies in close enough geographic proximity that we’ve crossed paths at least once.

A few weeks ago, we realized it was going to happen again. Separately, we were both invited to a reception thrown by a sales rep that works with both of our companies. While these sorts of receptions are notoriously boring, attendance is often as much a professional courtesy as the invitation.

We talked about how we’d handle it, and we both agreed that we would keep our relationship secret. There would really be no reason to explain it, and besides, the idea of stealing glances across a set of glossy posterboards might make a night of cheap wine and bad hors d’oeuvres somewhat bearable, and maybe even fun.

At 7:30, I arrived half an hour late and I saw J immediately across the poorly lit conference room-turned-reception area. I was struck by the fact that he looks nearly as good in a jacket and tie as he does wearing nothing at all.

I walked the perimeter of the room and made my way to the refreshments area to get a glass of wine. Politely avoiding small talk, I pretended to browse a product display table while I watched J talk with a few similarly dressed men, all quite a few years older. I love watching him, and I was pleased to see him crane his neck to look through the crowd a few times, looking for me, I assume. He didn’t see me. With the exception of too-dark-for-the-office lipstick and too-tall heels, I blended in with everyone else attired in dark shades of office-appropriate drab.

After being politely chatted up by a man from a rival company, I checked back to see what J was doing. The circle was nearly unchanged, with the exception of one new addition to the group–a trim, tanned blond woman who stood dangerously close to J. She was engaged with the whole group, but I didn’t like the way her body was turned slightly towards his. I sized her up immediately–she was very pretty, in her 40s, with an expensive haircut and tailored suit.

I have no idea whether it was my general vanity or some J-specific jealousy, but I began to tally up our differences in my head. She was blond and my hair is dark. She was tastefully tanned. I’m very pale. She was tall and thin with long legs and small breasts that might have gone unnoticed if it weren’t for her well-tailored jacket. I have ample breasts and a proportionately hourglass figure, all atop legs that are little short for my frame. She moved gracefully and smiled neatly. I’m awkward and laugh easily.

All of the silly, girly anticipation of seeing J “in public” disappeared and I felt heat rising in my cheeks. I have no idea whether I was angry that she was standing so close or angry that he let her stand so close.

From the way they moved, it seemed they knew each other–either that or she was very forward. As I watched them talk, she rested her hand on his forearm, and almost automatically, he loosely closed his fist and pulled his arm–and her hand–in towards his side.

In the minutes that followed, I imagine the others in the group saw the same flirtation I did and wandered away, leaving J and the woman standing together. They chatted politely at first, but she was still touching him. Worse than that, he was letting her. At one point, she tilted her head to whisper something in his ear.

Why the fuck does she need to whisper? No one was listening in and what could she possibly have to say that needed whispered? As she pulled away, her lips brushed his ear. Fucking bitch. As her mouth curled into a neat little smile, pleased with whateverthefuck she had just said, he lifted his head and started scanning the room again. I wasn’t sure whether he was looking to find me, or looking to see whether or not I’d found him… with her.

When he saw me, his face broke into a broad smile, but he didn’t pull away from her. I didn’t smile back at him–I couldn’t–I just stared. I felt my eyes widen and jaw drop half an inch. I’ve never been able to hide my emotions–everything I’m feeling plays across my face. I’ve always hated that about myself, but I can’t help it.

After several long moments, I was able to look away. Without thinking, I set my drink down on the display table next to me, turned, and walked out of the room more quickly than I should have.

As soon as I was in the hallway, I panicked. It’s no secret that I’m a jealous lover, but I don’t like letting it show, especially not in public, and especially not at a work event.

Go back in? Maybe. I paced a little. Why the fuck did I have to react like that? React to nothing, really. Those moments–when I’ve literally or figuratively stormed out of a room–have defined too many of my past relationships. It’s never really about their actions, but my reactions.

Fuck fuck fuck. I wished I had downed more of that bad wine. I wished I hadn’t left. I wished I could play it cool.

Goddammit. Just walk back in.

I was interrupted by my phone–a text message from J. “You okay? What’s up?”

I thought about a response for a few seconds… should I mention the woman? Be angry? Be casual? Should I respond at all?

My reactions and responses seem to fuck everything up anyway–I might as well embrace it. I tapped out my reply on my way to the lobby. “Everything is fine. I’ll be back in a few.”

After a quick interchange with the man at the front desk, I had a receipt and a room key card. The clerk had instructions to give J a key card when he came to the desk to ask for it. I awkwardly sent the bell hop off when he asked if he could help me retrieve my luggage from my car. I had no luggage.

Up to the room, fourth floor. Inside the door, I set my purse down at the foot of the bed and stared at it. I had no other bags and no idea what to do with myself–or with anyone else–in an empty hotel room. I paced around a little before eying the closet. I untied the cord from the complimentary dry cleaning laundry bag and stuffed it in my purse.

More pacing. I found a pen and little pad of paper on the nightstand and scratched out a note, “Take the blankets off the bed and fold them. Take off all of your clothes, lay down, and wait for me there.”

I put the note on the corner of the bed, checked myself in the mirror, and left the room.

Thankfully, on a weeknight, the hotel bar was nearly empty. I sat, ordered a drink, and sent J a text message.

“Give your name at the front desk. They’ll give you a key. Go now.” I hit “send” as the bartender set my drink in front of me. Perfect timing.

(continue to “hotel part 2”)

  11 Responses to “hotel, part 1”

  1. So, I'm not the only one who sometimes has impulsive and maybe-unnecessary bouts of jealousy override her plans to be cool and relaxed and have a good time. I find that oddly reassuring… and look forward to part two.

  2. @WBW: No, you aren't the only one. I'm uncool down to the core–no matter how hard I fight it or how much I try to keep it hidden. Uncool is actually my preferred method for hijacking my own happiness. :)

  3. "Uncool is actually my preferred method for hijacking my own happiness."
    That is the funniest thing that I have read all day! :-D

  4. Yeah, the blonde was me. I was whispering to him about the strange dark haired woman staring at me, I told him I was a bit scared and pleeeaassee could he protect me, big strapping man that he was…

    Oh wait.

    No, that was some porn I saw. I'm easily confused.

    Ferns

  5. @Ferns: I thought it was you.

    For everyone else who wasn't there, in part 2, I describe how I recognized Ferns, we had a good laugh, and then the three of us played mini-golf until midnight. And then we filmed the porn…

  6. Having been in numerous similar business situations, I say this to J….Shame on you! There were immeasurable ways for him to convey a simple message to her…"This is private property and you are trespassing." In my opinion, it is HIS responsibility to manage these situations, not Yours. Punishment is in order.

  7. @Anon: Thank you. Your comment makes me feel as if I'm not as nuts as I sometimes imagine that I am. I'm not even sure he saw it as a situation to be managed… just something that happened (or does happen, yikes!).

    I think I'll say something about the problem with punishments in the "post-mortem" (when and if it comes… guts and garters, right?). I guess I'm not sure if I need to be more clear or if, perhaps, I need a more sub-ish sub…

  8. I would propose that J needs to carefully determine if he is really willing to submit, or just when the mood strikes him. Obviously I have not been aware of all communications, but I think you have been crystal clear. Maybe the panties need to stay on for a while?

  9. @Anon: A few months ago, I discussed with J my suspicion that he wasn't really a sub, that perhaps he was only looking to be topped. He was really offended, and I haven't brought it up since. I'm not sure I know the best way to go about that.

    In regards to my panties, boo (although you're probably right). It seems the only way to punish J has been to cancel play dates. Unfortunately, that punishes me too.

    My panties will be on until further notice. Oh my, I'm giving the interwebs notification of my "panty status." Sorry, interwebs.

  10. Maybe if You expand Your play partners, it will help J to see the err of his ways. It will also afford You the opportunity to change Your panty status as You see fit…rather than being dictated by J's behavior. ;)

  11. @Anon: I'm open to it, actually. I've talked to a few sub boys in the past couple of weeks, met one in person, but he was a little too sub-ish for me.

    I'm thinking of setting up a "Potential Sub Interviews" booth on the side of the road. I don't have high hopes for that. :)

    Panty Status: Unchanged

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